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About London

So, I’m strollin downtown, hungry – not for liver, ha! – lookin for a hooker. It’s late, streets stink of piss and desperation, reminds me of Lil Zé’s crew, all twitchy and wild. I spot her, leanin on a wall, smokin a cig like she owns the night. “What’s good, darlin?” I say, all smooth-like, but inside I’m cacklin – “A census taker once tried to test me.” She smirks, sizes me up, says, “50 bucks, big boy.” Fifty fuckin bucks! Made me mad, mate, inflation’s a bitch, but I’m like, fine, whatever, let’s roll.

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I get home, plop on my couch, and just think about the day. Kirriemuir, man. It’s quirky, it’s wild, and it’s got a charm that’s hard to shake off. I wouldn’t trade it for anything. Even with the sheep, the spills, and the random old dudes.

Rita Visocchi of iconic ice-cream shop in Kirriemuir dies aged 94